


Against Them We Rebelled

by shippingandrecieving



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cat!Chopper, F/M, Kallus has a bad day, Kallus has a bad day extended, M/M, Merfolk AU, Merfolk!Ahsoka, Piracy AU, descriptions of drowning, descriptions of torture, human!Hera, human!zeb, it's known as Luck, its again not too graphic but its there, its not particularly explicit but still, the Force sort of exists in this, the Kanera is mainly background but theyre in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingandrecieving/pseuds/shippingandrecieving
Summary: He rolled his head forwards to fix his golden glare on the fleeing ship ahead of him. The Lawbringer was closing in.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 43
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Lightning split the air in vicious whip lashes and thundering rain hammered down upon the deck. The droplets came down in blinding sheets of slate grey, as though Heaven had sundered open and rained all Hell upon their heads. 

Kallus stood proudly on the forecastle, hands clasped behind his back. Sodden ginger blond hair fell back as he peered at the sky, brow furrowed and lips twisted in a frown, the downpour less an obstacle than it was an inconvenience. 

These pirates had eluded him for long enough. They had stolen entire vessels, along with barrels of supplies, killed any number of their Navy's people, and had somehow gotten away from any Galleon sent after them. That ended here.

He rolled his head forwards to fix his golden glare on the fleeing ship ahead of him. The _Lawbringer_ was closing in.

Sabine peered through her spyglass, blinking away rain that dripped onto her face from her hair. Her sodden clothes stuck to her lithe frame, and the coloured ribbons that held her sleeves above her elbows were stained dark from the rainwater.

The _Ghost_ may have only been a small ship compared to the Imperial Navy's Frigates, but it outmatched their lumbering beasts on speed. Even so, the _Lawbringer's_ massive sails loomed ever closer like phantoms in fog.

"Damn it all." She swore under her breath before calling over her shoulder, shouting above the crash of waves and the gutteral roars of thunder. "Kallus!"

"Oh, Agent Kallus, how lovely!" Hera rolled her eyes. She span the wheel with a practiced flick of her wrist, turning them deeper into the ominously gathering storm clouds.

Below them, on the main deck, their 'cabin boy' to anyone who asked, leaned over the side of the ship to balk up at the swirling clouds above their heads. He spluttered around a mouthful of salty spray off the pitching swell beneath them, rivulets of rain running off his nose.

"Err...That's a storm..." Ezra said to himself, before backing away a step and spinning on his heel. "Hera, _that's a storm!_ "

She flicked rain plastered hair out of her face, and Hera's body rolling with the force of the waves. "We're the smaller ship! If lightning strikes, it should hit them and not us!"

Lightning struck the water no more than an arm's length away from the boy, the burning scent of ozone charring his throat. "Woah!" He yelped, scrambling backwards. 

Hera glared over her shoulder. Agent Kallus' proper English accent was carried by the wind, faint but irritating nonetheless. 

"Load cannons!" She heard Kallus roar above the howling gales.

Kanan's voice was little more than a whisper in Hera's ear, she hadn't heard him come up from below deck. 

"They're almost upon us." His clouded, sightless eyes turned to the sky and he blinked away raindrops. Anger burned in Hera's heart for _they_ had done that. The empire had taken Kanan's sight from him. 

The Captain held her breath. She might not have had Kanan's or Ezra's uncanny Luck, but she knew something was about to happen. The dark clouds swirled overhead like a maelstrom, gathering veins of electricity among them. 

A vast, forking spike of lightning struck the Imperial ship. Sabine gasped, flinching back. Her fingers dug into the rail as she watched flames ignite and lick across many white sails.

Agent Kallus shielded his eyes behind a white gloved hand, blinking the flash out of his eyes with a shake of his head. He recovered with a snarl and angrily swiped at his hair where it stuck forward to his brow.

"Shore up that mast!" Kallus bellowed, grabbing the nearest man and shaking him into action, "And _someone put that fire out!_ " He marched through the clamour, wrapping a slack length of rigging rope around his fist and leaned forward to glare at the escaping ship.

The shrieking groan of splintering wood split the air above him. He had only a moment to shove the closest midshipman out of the collapsing mast's path before diving to the side himself. He landed awkwardly, the heavy sail descending in a smouldering heap to lay crumpled over his legs. Kallus spat out a mouthful of water and shook his dripping hair back out of his eyes.

The mast had collapsed over the cargo hatch. 

He kicked his legs free, scrambling into action at shouts from below. Water was rushing in from splits in the hull below the waterline, although, with the vessel pitching and rearing with the furious waves the waterline was currently above the deck of the ship. 

"Ser!" The ship's gunner waded through frantic crewmen and water to reach for the metal hatch above him. "T-the door's buckled and blocked, ser!" He spat out a mouthful of seawater, "We're trapped!"

"Calm yourself, man!" Kallus growled, looking around for some way to shift the broken mast, or force the door from the lower deck. He ground his teeth when he found nothing, so he called down to the men struggling at the door.

"To me!" He summoned, slapping a hand against the metal grate. Kallus took hold of the broken mast, shoulder braced against the shaft of it. "Haul, men!" His cry was strained from the effort, but despite all attempts the sundered mast nor the hatch would shift an inch.

"Blasted thing! Find something to-" His frustrated growl was cut off. He swayed back, wobbling upright, his polished boots slipping as the deck beneath his feet began to give way. 

The ship creaked and cracked, and with one last almighty shudder the frigate split in half.

Kallus was thrown forward, saved from a plummet into the ravenous, churning waters by his snatched grip on a rope. He scrambled back, evading the encroaching water and tangled ropes, climbing higher up the ship.

"KALLUS!" Lyste wailed, staring up at him from where the boy clung to the forecastle. Tears threatened to drown him before the swell of briny water could, and he reached a trembling hand up. Kallus leaned forward and stretched out to reach him. Fingers dug painfully into his forearm and Kallus grit his teeth, hauling he boy up next to him. They climbed across the slippery wood, balanced precariously where they came to kneel on the bowsprit, the only safe harbour left. 

"I-I-I d-don't want to d-drown..." Lyste hiccupped, clinging tightly to the Imperial Agent's hands.

Kallus searched the ravaged deck for a longboat. They were all smashed and burning. His mouth twisted in a deep frown and he turned back to the shivering boy. 

"Yogar, look at me. Look at-that's it, good lad." Kallus soothed. A lieutenant at only eighteen, Lyste would go far. He had more than enough potential if only he could master his hound pup enthusiasm. And if they survived this.

The remainder of the ship pitched and heaved unsteadily beneath them, their hands scrabbled and slipped on the soaked wood. Kallus reached up to lay his palm flat over Lyste's heart; many men feared the monsters and leviathans of the depths and many more feared becoming one. Kallus knew the rites, he never had wanted to imagine uttering safe passage through the void for Yogar, the lieutenant still not yet a man. 

"From this moment I step into my next. From this place I step into my next. From this life I step into my next. For I am one with the Stars, for ever and for ever."

The wood beneath them gave way before he could finish and they tumbled down into the swirling darkness. Kallus kicked out, trying to steady himself and blinked his burning eyes, searching for the young lieutenant among the debris. 

A length of loose rigging wrapped around his leg, coiling up from his right ankle. Struggling only tangled him further, tearing his trousers and burning his skin. The weight of the sodden mainsail dragged him downwards, caught among the sinking wreckage.

 _I'm going to die here..._ Said the hushed whisper in the back of his mind. _But Konstantine will save my soul._

He spotted the flailing silhouette of Lyste, clawing his way to the surface under the dark shadow of something that managed to remain afloat. 

_Our bodies to the deep...Our souls to the starlit abyss..._

He couldn't remember any more of the verse over the searing tightness in his chest. The pressure built until he could take no more, feeling as though he would burst. Kallus had imagined his death many times, none of those scenarios featured a storm ravaged void, and a little hiccup of air being replaced by brine. 

Darkness closed in over his head, and then where was nothing else...

*

Admiral Konstantine dispassionately watched the _Lawbringer_ drag it's bulk beneath the waves, impassive to an entire crew lost.

"Turn us about." He snapped to his helmsman, "We must return to the _Chimera_ with all haste."

Blue eyes narrowed and Kassius peered out over the expanse of rolling ocean. He would soon have those pirates in his grasp and have them all hanged. That glory was his, and his alone.

"Survivors, sir?"

The Admiral did not even care to turn. "No. There will be no survivors."

*

A soft voice drifted through the water, its silky whisper an echo from the deep. _Fate has it's eyes on you, warrior..._

Kallus flailed, sucking in a deep gulp of air. No...water? His golden eyes snapped open to see nothing but darkness, not even his own hands in front of his face. The inky dark had him disorientated, unable to tell up from down. The salty water no longer stung his eyes but vision wouldn't help him here; there was nothing to see, nor hear, nor feel but the rippling slip of water.

He blinked again, and then saw light. A needle prick of it, but that was enough. 

Something tugged him downwards, and he remembered his struggles in vain to the surface. He rolled forwards and groped to untangle himself from the rope attached to the mainsail. The rough rope tore at his fingertips but he managed to loosen the serpentine coils and slip his foot free. He righted himself with a strong kick and a sweep of his arms and recoiled with a shudder.

Fear chilled him to the marrow of his bones, as he watched the vertical wreck of the _Lawbringer_ descend like a whalefall. Kallus pulled his way over the sunken ship, dodging drowned crew and bits flotsam until that speck of light came closer.

He broke the surface and clung to the rocks, their razor edges cutting his hands in attempt to scramble up and out of the water. The storm was over; its thick, oppressive clouds had broken apart to allow meagre shafts of sunlight through. Kallus froze, trembling against the buffeting lap of the waves pressing him against the sheer rock.

He hadn't needed breath...He still didn't. 

The Agent shook himself and dragged his body through the thirsty teeth of rock onto the sands and pebbles beyond, collapsing onto his side in exhaustion and shuffling back from the water's edge on his elbows. Kallus lay for a moment, entire body screaming from the burn of his overworked muscles.

His brow furrowed at a nagging twinge of pain and he struggled back to sitting. One ankle, his right, was rubbed raw from the twisted rope, bleeding shallowly. His fine crafted, uniform trousers had torn to reveal his legs. Scaled legs, that he could hardly move separately. It took a great deal of effort to yank them apart, feeling as though something connecting them had snapped.

Pale hands flew to his ravaged throat when his disbelieving exclamation of 'what?' was instead a ragged hiss.

 _This is a dream._ Kallus stared down at his hands, watching them tremble with icy dread. A _horrible dream of madness and damnation._

He rubbed his thumbs against his fingers, faintly scaled and rough to the touch. Tears filled Kallus's eyes, unbidden and childish and entirely unstoppable. Were they really tears or more seawater, he couldn't tell. All he knew was aching sorrow.

 _He must have, Kassius must have. If only a few words to ensure safe passage for a soul. He must have..._

Kallus' bearded jaw trembled and all hope he'd jolt wake in his cabin aboard the _Lawbringer_ had fled with the tugging winds.

Alexsandr Kallus buried his dripping face in his hands and wept. The wrongness of even that sound dragged him deeper into despair, his own hacking and hissing echoing back at him over the rolling break of the waves against the shore.

He rasped another choking sob and dragged himself to curl up among the washed up wreckage of the _Lawbringer_ , and wept for his soul stranded in between life and death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You may call me Fulcrum, and you may now call yourself one of the same." She cupped the back of his hand with one of hers, and traced two fingers over his palm; two pointed lines, and two dots above those points.

It was faint metallic rattling that roused him.

For a disorientating moment, Kallus forgot where he was along with all that had happened, and blinked down in confusion at the gritty beach under his hands. Hands dappled with faint scales with sand caught under the fingernails. He hunched forward, curling inwards on himself as the sorrow returned like the coming of dawn.

He twitched back upright with a grimace, the skin and scales of his back prickling with needle stabs of dry heat where his tattered shirt didn't cover. The spray of the ocean's breaking waves offered more respite than he wished it to where it's scattered droplets soaked through his clothing like spring rain. 

Sand matted golden hair drifted back as Kallus raised his head, squinting into the blazing sunlight behind the shield of his hand. There was something silhouetted on the horizon.

Kallus stood, wobbling on his unsteady legs, and scooped up the little contraption that was creating that infernal rattling. The salt water had damaged the spyglass somewhat, but it still magnified the ship in the distance, so far away it appeared a little model ship that had sailed away from it's bottle. 

He recognized the vessel with first elation, then a pang of anxious confusion. It was the _Relentless_ , and Kassius. The spyglass was lowered haltingly, then dropped with a clinking shatter. 

He had to go back, he belonged, and the rebels were getting away. Kallus shook himself out of his hesitant torpor at the waters edge but a niggling feeling of dread stalled him once again. They _would_ accept him back...of course they would, his expertise was invaluable in such matters. What was truly the worst that could happen now, fate had already damned the air from his lungs.

Kallus waded into the rolling waves until he stood submerged to the waist, the water had lost its chill but his disquiet to be among the underside of that great expanse remained. He raked his fingers through his hair and sneered at himself; Agent Kallus of among the Imperial Navy, afraid of water. He steeled his nerves to that of a blade of a sword, and dove forward.

Swimming several feet beneath the surface without needing to crest for air was unsettling. However, breaking the surface for air and not needing it, or rather, not being able to take it was just as disquieting. As a boy, little Alexsandr often dreamed of exploring the uncharted depths unimpeded, revealing lost civilizations and sunken treasure. This half life was the furthest thing from his boyhood dreams as he could exist. 

_Focus Alexsandr_... He scolded, and he did so on cutting through the buffeting current with each arch of his arms.

There was a figure shadowed by the belly of the _Relentless_ , and Kallus kicked himself upright to halt his drifting.

Imperial decree would have him disgusted at the sight of such an abyssal beast, but stalwart English upbringing cast adrift just as he had been, he could not deny in the privacy of his mind that she looked _magnificent_.

A vast tail of white scales slashed with stripes of deep slate blue, both enthrallingly stark against her thicker tan skin. The merwoman took in her intruder with a curious tip of her head, but did not look entirely surprised to see a man lost at sea among the living, and still dressed in the ragged and sodden remains of his uniform.

His uneasy gold stare locked with her soulful and unblinking gaze of sapphire blue, which carried age beyond her years. There was silence except for muted shouts of Imperial efficiency from above and the rippling of limbs through water. After another moment she spoke, her voice cutting through the void as much as it was inside his own head.

"Your Empire's foundations are built with bones. And more are thrown upon the pile every day in the name of conquest. Bones of their own men and those who stood against them in defiance."

Kallus' golden brows furrowed and he bared his teeth. _Lies!_ The Empire stood against such things, it's might was for the good of world.

She blinked impassively and let him pass, watching his ascent in silence.

Salt stained strands of hair plastered themselves to his forehead as he emerged from the water, unable to sweep them back into order while scaling the side of the ship. He looked dreadful, he was certain. But he would soon be able to acquire a fresh uniform, and if his voice was truly lost to him he could communicate by sign, or scribe his thoughts-.

That train of thinking was abruptly cut off by a musket's stock striking him in the stomach as soon as his feet landed on the upper deck, and several strong hands wrestled him to his knees.

"What in Holy words _is this!?"_ An outraged shout echoed over the quiet chatter and flap of sails.

Kallus froze, then blinked up at the advancing footfalls of standard issue officers boots.

Konstantine descended from the forecastle, flanked by his deck officers. He stopped a few feet away from where Kallus was forced to kneel. Those blue eyes of his were cold, and his voice even colder as he glared down at his former comrade and friend as though Alexsandr was little more than a grease stain on his pristine deck.

"Dispose of this...creature."

The cold barrel of a flintlock chilled his temple and Kallus felt his jaw hang open. Did... _Kassius not recognize him?_ Kallus struggled to lean forwards, his golden eyes wide. His lower lip quivered as he tried to speak, to explain his actions and his absence, but nothing came out except that infernal hacking and dripping of brine from his cracked lips.

The pistol digging into the side of his face cocked, but before the trigger could be pulled something else struck the back of his head, _hard_. The drowned man's vision spotted, then went dark.

Kallus would not recall the woman's voice as she lay claim to the imposter, nor the rough, bone jarring drag down into the brig, or the unyielding cold iron manacles clamping around his wrists and suspending him from a pillar in a darkened room.

*

Burning eyes blinked open as Kallus slowly came to, his brow furrowing in confusion and pain. A rasping hiss tore itself from his throat at a tight pull from his temple where dried blood had crusted over the split above his eye, with a few wayward strands of his hair caught among the mess.

Concussions, and the subsequent blackout loss of time that accompanied them, always left Kallus off balance and antsy in a disoriented daze. They were indeed among his least favoured injuries to endure.

Kallus squinted around what of the darkened hold he could in his current position, slowly taking in rows upon rows of chains and manacles with a dawning horror smothering his previous annoyance and running his blood cold. The _Relentless_ was a slave transport.

His brow furrowed once more and this time he ignored the bruising pain. The Empire didn't deal in flesh or trafficking, that was what the rebels did, he had always been told their workers were prisoners eager for repentance and desired to earn their way back into civilized society. Kallus' blood ran colder than frost, for it had truly all been lies, everything. How many of the rebels, insurgents, and pirates had he hunted down in the name of the English Empire been in fact escaped slaves?

Damn him and _damn it all_ , he snarled into his arms, he was a fool. He should have looked at the facts, dug deeper, asked questions...those would have had him killed. _The bones of those who stood against them in defiance._

The faint draw and drag of breath drew his attention. There was someone leaned back in a chair a few feet away from where he hung just too high to kneel, their knee listing lazily to and fro in a thin shaft of sunlight.

Kallus grit his teeth, he knew that figure. Pryce, a sadist like none other.

"Agent Kallus." She spoke with an almost jovial lilt to her usually chilly voice. "My, but you _do_ look terrible. Drowned at sea?"

She stood slowly, sneering down her nose at him. Pryce wasn't an exceptionally tall woman, but no matter your height, you were always beneath her.

"What did you exchange for this meagre life. What was the price you paid." She leaned in close with a curl of her lip, and punctuated her next hissed word with a slap across his cheek. " _Coward_. I would have chosen death and faced it."

Kallus kept his mouth shut, he saw no point in opening it.

"I do know you will not talk, or cannot talk." She straightened and began to pace around him in lazy circles. Kallus found himself reminded of a ravenous shark on the scent of blood.

"But!" She suddenly exclaimed, sounding far too cheerful for anything pleasant to be about to happen. "It is still a great distance between myself and the Chimera, and I find myself lacking... entertainment."

The governor ceased her predatory circling to stand in front of him, a bucket held in one gloved hand. Pryce drew her fingers through the hot, dry earth and scooped up a greedy handful, letting the grains run through her fingers for show. Her smile showed all her pristine teeth, and the look in Arihnda's eyes for the first time truly frightened him. She gathered up another handful and flicked that palmful of sand directly into Kallus' face.

Alexsandr _howled_. What to a living man would have been a tickling warmth was instead, to him, a searing agony. He struggled in attempt to shake the burning grit off where it stuck to his skin.

Arihnda laughed, her icy blue eyes colder than he remembered them, and threw another handful.

"Governor, ma'am."

She snarled, like the monster she truly was, and twisted to glare over her shoulder. "What. _Is it_."

The lieutenant, to his credit, only stammered the once. "T-the Admiral, ma'am. Is requesting your presence."

She twitched forward, as though considering upending the nearly full bucket of sand over his head before her departure, but alas, they only had the one bucket of the stuff and Arihnda was loath to cut her fun short. Perhaps she would demand the cook to relinquish a scaling knife.

Pryce lunged forward, and gripped Kallus' face to tip his head back to look in her eyes. "I will be back soon, Alexsandr. This moment of respite will not last long, I assure you..." She spat on his cheek for good measure.

He glared after her until her footsteps had retreated and he was once again alone, then slumped like a marionette with it's strings cut. A low whine shivered up from his chest as he rotated his wrists in their bindings, the solid iron had priesed some of the fine scales away from his skin and rubbed him raw.

Cursed manacles. They weren't so difficult to break out of when one knew how and had the means. Quite unfortunately, Alexsandr currently had one and not the other. He stilled as timid footsteps stopped outside his cell door. Kallus never liked the feeling of being watched, and rounded on his audience with his teeth bared, flashing in the half light.

The snarl died in his throat and his brow pulled up slowly...It was Lyste. 

Kallus would have gasped had he the air to do so. He wished that in that moment above all others he had his voice, even if only for one small breath. His relieved sigh of 'Yogar,' was instead a wet hiss.

His former lieutenant backed away, and Kallus felt his heart break all over again.

"I-I will not help you escape." The boy said in a rush, but twisted an iron key in the lock for Kallus' cell door. Yogar opened his mouth then closed it again, looking as lost as Kallus felt, as though he had much more to say. The look in wide grey eyes spoke of as much. Instead, he turned heel and fled.

 _Wasted your breath there, did you not?_ Kallus thunked his head against the cuffs. _Should have whispered that prayer for yourself._ He blinked his eyes open and slumped as far as his arms were long, sorrow twisting his expression. Yogar deserved his life, more so than Kallus himself did.

Kallus looked up despairingly at the chain that held him. Blast it, his wrists _hurt_.

That's when Kallus spotted it, his first luck since his waking nightmare began. A patch of wood darker than the others and feeble. He couldn't help but roll his eyes, however; somebody has been shirking their duties in maintaining this vessel.

Kallus stood on shaky legs, and dragged the chain of his manacles up the pillar they had attached him to with a scraping rattle that he felt inside his very skull. He positioned the chain over the rotted section of wood, wrapped his fists around the iron links, and pulled with all his weight. The beam groaned, then shattered into soft splinters that dusted his hair when they settled. He landed with a thud and a groan, and shook the fibers out of his matted hair.

The clanking irons would be a problem in mobility and stealth, but Agent Kallus had done far worse with much less. He held the chain in one of his large hands in attempt to muffle the chiming of it's links. The deft expertise of his fingertips was robbed as the cell door opened with a nerve grating squeal.

Gold eyes peered through the shadows and he held himself completely still, listening for the assertive footfalls of Konstantine's patrolling crew. He figured the Stars finally decided to show some pity on a bastard for there appeared to be no one around, not immediately at least. Kallus would take what little chances he could, he would not have to go far after all. He should have known something was very wrong where Pryce was involved, in that she insisted on having her cabin close to the brig. There was something about her that had Kallus quietly unsettled, but he never wanted to look to deeply into it. He should have. 

Two men stood guard outside her cabin, easy. Kallus wrinkled his nose, disappointing more like. If he were in charge and held a rebel spy, he would have stationed at least four men on guard at such a restricted place; two men beside the door and two more to face them, no access unguarded and no weak points of entry. 

Having no boots made stealth easier, so long as no one came up from behind after following his wet footprints. He crept up beside the closest man and swung his arms forward over their head and pulled, the chain of his manacles looped around their neck. Kallus was grateful for his substantial height, as Pryce's guard was too short to throw him off.

The second guard shouted, circling around and lunging at Kallus from behind. Two backpedaling steps and a lurching shove, and Kallus slammed the second man back into the wall, the poor sod's head whipping back with an audible crack. Kallus tightened his grip, looping the chain around his fists until the guard stopped struggling and dropped him to the ground.

If there had been four men, he mused while rolling his neck-he even had a moment's rest, these men needed better training- he'd have been readily subdued before rendering his first man unconscious. 

In a flourish of his old arrogant bravado, Kallus kicked a fallen musket up into his grip and drove it's stock into the belly of the remaining man and then down onto the back of his neck, sending the poor fool to crumple in a heap. 

Kallus stilled, scanning for further danger, then hurried through the door to Pryce's personal quarters. 

He leaned back on the closed door behind him, and he would have sighed in relief if he were still able, that gauche window was his escape route. Kallus made it halfway across the room when he froze in place, eyes landing on her desk. This would likely be his only chance to find out what had _really_ been going on.

His damp fingers rifled through stacks of papers and his nose scrunched up in frustration; nothing at all of value. Just prisoner reports, and a few personal manifests for torture equipment. The locked chest however, looked much more promising. He dragged the thing closer, the heavy box scraped across the polished wood, and dug unsightly gouges in it's wake. 

Pryce likely kept the key for it on her person.

A whistle blew along with his cover as shouts sounded from above and back down the narrow passage leading to the cells. 

_Kriff it all!_ He snarled to himself. He grasped the underside of Pryce's heavy wooden desk and hauled upwards, upending the ungainly thing and flipped it towards the door. It felt good to use his strength again in full, and trashing the place was satisfyingly cathartic in it's retribution for being chained in the brig like an animal. One more full bodied shove and the door was almost entirely obscured. The inward opening door and his makeshift barricade would bring him those last precious moments he needed to escape. 

Kallus swung the chest with as much strength as he could with his hands bound to smash out the window like an improvised flail, he had no further need for stealth after all.

That desk held long enough for him to unsteadily climb over the jagged teeth of the window's shattered remains. The thing, and the door, caved under enough brute force and Kallus' glare met that of Governor Pryce, seething behind her men like a viper. He poured as much of his own outrage into that look before leaping into the watery abyss. 

He sank slowly downwards, away from the horror that he was once proud to be a part of, his body curled around the chest he'd stolen.

The underside of the breaking waves flowed and scattered its droplets like a rainfall of glass as sunlight dappled water closed in over his head. It was almost a comfort, slipping back into this mirrored world of silence.

A hand wrapped around his arm and drew him further under the ship, and backwards into it's shadow. Kallus struggled until the being that hand belonged to twisted herself into view hand placed her other hand on his shoulder.

"You did well." She spoke softly. "You will help us?"

Kallus frowned, and held the chest closer to him. The merfolk's smile was knowing, and Kallus couldn't tell if that soothed him or made him more unsettled. She waved her hand at the chest Kallus had cradled against his torso.

"My friends can get those cuffs open, the box too, and do something about what they find inside it."

She withdrew a little, letting Kallus go but held out her hand.

The empire are trading in flesh to fund their wars, and he knew nothing about it. An Agent in their employ, for almost ten years and in all that time he knew less than nothing. He reached out one of his scarred, scaled hands as far as the chain allowed.

She smiled again. "You may call me Fulcrum, and you may now call yourself one of the same." She cupped the back of his hand with one of hers, and traced two fingers over his palm; two pointed lines, and two dots above those points.

"My symbol. They know it, the Spectres."

She swam a backwards a few lengths with one open hand outstretched to him in invitation. "Come with me."

Kallus hesitated just long enough to adjust his grip on the chest, then swam forward to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few little bits of AU verse lore:
> 
> Merfolk are drowned by other merfolk, have their gills bitten into the sides of their necks and buried in seaweed or corals until they transform with their scales, fins, and tails and adopted into the communities of those who turned them. (imagine wet and confused butterflies)
> 
> Drowned, such as Kallus, are those drowned at sea and without burials, their skin turns scaled and they can't talk or breath, having lungs still full of water. They're, in my notes, 'voiceless soggy bois who constantly drip water.'
> 
> Because both of these peoples live in the water, dry earth and sand will burn them, hence Pryce and her bucket


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jagged teeth of Sailors Grave loomed like a dragons maw open wide. Kallus stamped down his apprehension and swam towards the largest gap.

Afternoon sunlight drifted down through the water in dappled shafts, as if one hundred golden wisps bobbed and floated overhead.

Kallus was grateful they had kept to the light filled shallow waters, the deep darkness had robbed him of his usually steady nerves. He hadn't been able to pretend it was a star filled nights sky, not the unexplored abyss it truly was.

Among the darkness and chill, he had began to wonder if Hell was not torture and brimstone, but crushing depths and oceanic brine. Trapped on the wrong side of a mirror, it felt just so.

Now at height in the shallower waters with light to see by and a guide, a strange guide perhaps but Kallus couldn't deny he felt comfortably safe by Fulcrum's side, his fear began to ebb.

He couldn't say if their detour -was it even a detour? He had no points of reference for direction or his companion for that matter- was even a faster route to their destination or she simply wanted to show him something pleasant in his newfound home.

The shelf of the reef curved around an outcropping of rock, bright and strange and abundant with life. Alexsandr swam, encumbered by a chain and a chest as he was, around trees of coral and little shoals of fish. Shiny shells and crawling oddities caught his eye amidst the underwater landscape.

The delightful absurdity of this upside-down wonderland distracted Kallus from the pain in his wrists. So much so, he almost swam directly into Fulcrum's back when she pulled up to a halt. He backpedaled a few feet to a polite distance.

"There is something I must ask of you." She said slowly, turning to face him.

In the short time he had known her, Kallus had discovered Fulcrum did not speak until she had something worth saying. He listened intently.

"The Ghost is just ahead. I need you to lead them through Sailors Grave, you will see the way."

'Sailors Grave'. Kallus knew of the place. A notorious field of razor sharp spires of rock, their tips only a few feet beneath the surface. That passage's hungry teeth had devoured many Imperial ships and were impossible to map. From the deck of a ship, at least.

He nodded, golden hair flowing like seaweed with the motion.

"I... cannot go with you," she continued, gaze flicking away to the waters beneath them. "There is something I must see to first. You'll do fine." Her sapphire eyes locked with Kallus' with her final words, and she reached up to place a hand on his shoulder.

Then, with no further explanation, Fulcrum pointed herself to the depths and descended into the darkest blue.

Kallus tightened his arms around the chest of Imperial documents and watched her disappear, sharpened teeth gnawing on his lower lip anxiously.

He continued to stare long after the sheer white of her tail faded away. How would the rebels react, expecting her, and getting him? Anxiety had his guts clench and roil uncomfortably. It would be best if he remain anonymous for as long as possible, however long he could maintain that charade.

Daylight was trickling away like the grains of sand inside an hourglass. Kallus shook off his inaction and kicked his legs to propel himself forward, his upper half weighed down by slowly rusting metal.

Each waving flourish of his legs brought him closer to the scarred wood of the _Ghost_. Anxiety took root like a thorned rose in his chest at just how well he could now swim.

He placed one palm against the hull of the ship to stop himself drifting further under. He blinked up at the ship then down at his wrists.

Captain Syndulla could perform quite literal miracles at the helm, but this perilous expanse held it's title for a reason. He did not doubt she could get them through, but by the time they had repaired the _Ghost_ from the damage inflicted from the stone teeth, the Imperial Navy would be on top of them.

And they were more important than rusting manacles that pinched a little.

Tentatively, he reached forward and gave the length of dangling rope an experimental tug. Kallus recoiled at a shout from above, ducking out of sight under the bow.

"It's Ashoka! H-huh, usually she comes up to say hello?" A boy no older than fifteen peered expectantly over the side of the ship, as if hoping to spot her unique colours among the waves.

"Haul anchor and loose those sails. Ezra!" She called louder, the boy's attention snapping back to his duties. "It's time to go."

Kallus peered up tentatively. The boy had gone. He looped the rough rope around his fists and rolled to draw the line over his shoulder as if he were a dockhand hauling cargo.

The jagged teeth of Sailors Grave loomed like a dragons maw open wide. Kallus stamped down his apprehension and swam towards the largest gap.

Sharks flitted silently through the narrow gouges beneath him, their lithe bodies cutting through the shadows like phantom wisps in fog.

Kallus swallowed, and decided he would forego looking downward. Such creatures had always fascinated him, but that fixation was when he lived outside the water.

All those breathing techniques to calm his songbird in a cage heart fell a little short with lungs full of water, instead he tried to focus on picking his way through. He twisted to swim backwards, careful not to tangle himself in the rope.

Several of the spires were too narrow for him to squeeze through, and likely far too sharp to try.

His advance through the next path was blocked by a wall of jelly fish, many _many_ more than he could count. Their little bulbs for bodies rippled through the still water.

He couldn't see any tentacles however. Kallus shuddered as all those sailor stories of ships being dragged to the depths in the coils of gargantuan monsters came back into the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to clear it, angered by his wayward imagination.

 _Focus you fool!_ He snapped at himself. No tentacles. They looked more like a swarm of upside-down tea cups than anything malicious.

He reached forward, and slowly swiped his hand through the clouded water in front of him.

Nothing. No stings, just several fleshy little domes being gently pushed aside. His broad shoulders drooped in relief and he kicked his body forward, the rope pulling taut behind him.

Each way Kallus tugged the rope in signal Hera turned them, some turns were so tight it felt miraculous that they made it at all.

The water began to darken around him, and that devilish imagination returned to haunt him like a shadow possessed. There could be a monster behind each spire. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined instead drawing a steeling breath.

He grit his teeth as the jagged points of rock scraped the hull, priesing splinters from the curved wood.

The stones spires began to thin out, then ceased their looming entirely as the shelf of rock gave way to a yawning chasm. Kallus' tensed shoulders drooped in relief to be out of that field of teeth and he gave the length of rope two sharp tugs, then let it drop.

He adjusted his slippery grip on the handle of the chest and swam a circle around the ship, inspecting it's belly for splits or leaks.

They had come out the other side largely unscathed.

Kallus swam over to the ships flank and made his ungainly ascent, scrabbling one handed up out of the water. The sun was slowly beginning to sink beneath the horizon, streaking the darkening sky with tongues of flaming orange. Sunset was much more appealing this side of the water.

He froze, clinging to the side of the ship, at voices coming from above. 

"And that's why Hera's the captain."

"Heh heh, nicely done, Hera."

He climbed slowly, encumbered by the heavy chest and the manacles he was still trapped in. Kallus grit his teeth as the handle on chest rattled along with the links of the chain conspiratorially. 

He peered over the edge of the main deck, tucked against the roped in longboat- dubbed the _Phantom_ how fitting- hidden from view.

A girl in lads breeches, and more colour Kallus had seen together in his adult life, gave a boy a few years her younger a playful shove towards the descent to the lower decks, leaving the elder crew members gathered. The children were too far away or spoke too quietly for Kallus to hear them.

He placed the chest down as quietly as he could, but a man built like a plough horse with a purple scarf tied around his waist noticed him. Brown eyes widened and the man took a step towards their intruder.

"Hey!"

The chain scraped against the damp wood of the deck as Kallus threw himself back down into the rolling swell and under the cover of the waves.

The three of them rushed to the side and searched over the edge. Stood in the middle was a young woman, with a strip of white patterned green scarf holding back two long plaits.

The infamous Hera Syndulla.

"Was that...Agent Kallus?" Her brow furrowed as she leaned further over the side of her ship.

Kallus kept himself hidden, his cover of anonymity blown out of the water almost instantly. He kicked his legs beneath him, elbows braced against the belly of the ship, with no idea what to do.

Footsteps retreated, and Kallus hazarded a slow look up, they were hopefully paying more attention to the evidence on the Empire than to him.

The deck creaked above him and he whipped around to stare at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Garazeb Orrelios, 'liberated' convict. Or was he an escaped slave too. Shame and disgust roiled in Kallus' stomach and turned his head away.

"C'mon. Get up here." His deep, accented voice was brusque in it's command. Garazeb crouched to pat the deck, and sat heavily with his legs dangled over the side.

"C'mere." He beckoned again, there was a stern hardness in the set of his brow. Kallus felt his insides clench; he deserved this animosity, that and more.

Alexsandr awkwardly scaled the side of the ship to sit delicately beside the other man. He felt very much like a schoolboy caught misbehaving and fidgeted under Garazeb's hardened gaze, and tugged at the collar of his soaked through and torn shirt.

"Let me get those irons off." Kallus blinked, surprised, and held out his hands, eager to finally be rid of the blighted things.

" _Hrrk-kkh_." He winced and dipped his head with a sharp flinch. His damp hair fell forwards, obscuring his eyes and his pale cheeks would have turned scarlet if they were still able.

One of Garazeb's thick brows jumped, then both furrowed deep over his eyes at the bloody welt the cuff had left on the drowned man's wrist.

Kallus gently wrapped the fingers of his newly freed hand around his throat.

Zeb blinked, voice softening. "Can't talk, huh."

He shook his head. Kallus wasn't able to see Garazeb's sad little smile past his curtain ginger of hair.

"Well...Yer welcome, Agent." Zeb spoke into the space between them, focusing on his task, and eased Kallus' other hand free from the biting iron.

He gathered up the loose chain and threw the manacles away into the ocean. Zeb drew a deep sigh and tapped an uneasy rhythm against one very muscular thigh.

"Yer didn't know they were slave tradin'?" He asked, but the haunted look in the other man's eyes answered for him.

Kallus' shoulders slumped further and he softly shook his head.

"There was a lot you didn't know, huh." Zeb said quietly, as they stared together out over the great expanse of open ocean.

Kallus understood now why they fought. It was hard to do so when one was wrapped in chains. He nodded solemnly, rubbing his wrists.

One of Garazeb's thick arms raised and he rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous tick. 

"Would yer look at me?"

Alexsandr had nothing left to loose, what more could fate have him endure. He slowly turned his gaze from the sinking sun to the better man sat beside him. Those golden eyes, once full of fire, were empty from despair. 

Garazeb blinked his own deep brown eyes and fixed a searching look into Kallus' face, the poor bastard did look awful.

Alexander blinked, flustered by the scrutiny. He couldn't tell if Garazeb Orrelios found what he searched for among the faint freckles and bleary eyes of a man he once hated.

After a moment, Zeb rubbed his neck again and sighed. "Let me get'cha some soup. Yer look cold."

Kallus watched him go, brows pinched in confusion. He deserved less than scraps, why hadn't they just tossed him over the side? He slumped forward, hissing at the pull of the burned skin on his back.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the soft rush of the sea below. Now freed, his wrists somehow hurt even more.

Zeb returned from below deck with a blanket tucked under his arm. He had somehow managed to avoid the two rambunctious youths, and slipped past Hera and Kanan pouring over the mystery box their guest had bought with him. Although, in Kanan's case who hardly missed a thing despite his lost vision, he was likely let past.

His bracken coloured eyes fell once again on Kallus, absently massaging his bloody wrists. Zeb had managed to find a small reel of bandages, and held them in the same large had as Kallus' bowl of stew.

The other man jumped as Zeb stepped up behind him and shook out the blanket, draping it gently across his wet shoulders. Kallus' lower lip began to quiver and he cast a searching look of his own into Zeb's eyes. 

"Hey now," Garazeb soothed, reaching out to slowly lay a hand on Kallus' shoulder. Kindness, apparently, was something else new.

Kallus hissed, breaking away to fold forwards at the waist to almost in half, and buried his face in his hands. He deserved the burns Pryce had left on his skin, that and more.

Garazeb sat down beside him, closer this time, and wrapped an arm around to hold Kallus' shoulders. He had seen Kanan comfort young Ezra a similar way.

"I know yer feeling all mixed up and confused, but I hafta ask. How did you find us, and with that box of secrets? Why are you _d_ _oing all this?_ "

Kallus swiped angrily at his damp eyes. _Because it is the right thing to do, because for all these years I was lied to. Because I am so sorry for everything I have done to cause harm._

Alexsandr haltingly reached for one of Zeb's hands who, to the surprise of both of them did not draw away, and traced Fulcrum's sigil over his weathered palm.

Zeb blinked then laughed softly, but even such a quiet sound from a man like Garazeb was still so deeply full of life.

"Ahsoka, huh. She's always got something strange up 'er sleeves."

Zeb looked around then settled more comfortably. He knew loneliness, so he sat at Kallus' elbow and talked, then hummed a few songs when he'd ran out of things to say, until late into the night.

The only light came from the moon and stars hanging overhead, and the few lanterns that hadn't snuffed themselves out.

Zeb smothered a yawn behind one of his massive hands and patted Kallus on the shoulder with the other. "Guh-G'night, Kallus..." His deep voice little more than a sleepy whine.

Kallus made a little noise in the back of his throat in response, it was only polite of course.

Zeb turned to smile over his shoulder, then retreated below deck on unsteady footing.

Alone, but feeling far less lost, Kallus cast a look about the deck uncertain of what to do with himself, or rather what he would be permitted to do. He froze when his gaze locked with two gleaming eyes that stared right back.

The creature stood, and paced slowly out of its hiding place, now that all the crew had retired to bed leaving him alone.

Kallus tipped his head and straightened his back in surprise with a pang of his old boyhood endearment. The stalking creature was in fact a ruffled and scarred old orange tabby cat.

Years ago, little Alexsandr had tugged insistently on mama's skirts and begged her to buy him the little kitten who's fur matched his hair that he had seen in a box. She had instead snatched her fingers around his wrist, and rapped him sharply on the knuckles before dragging him away.

Kallus held out his hand to the little beast, fingers dangling invitingly. His heart lightened with a sweet rush of elation as the ship's disgruntled looking mouser bounded over, purring loudly.

Had he the voice, and was assured enough in his privacy to shed his dignity like an old cloak, he'd have cheeped and cooed at the little brute.

The little cat meowed eagerly, and rubbed his scarred face earnestly against Kallus' fingers. He winced suddenly as sharp needle teeth sank into the meat of his hand when the ship's cat decided to drag his arm closer.

The tabby butted his head more forcefully against Kallus' palm, his ears twitching gleefully, either at being petted or biting.

Alexsandr smiled as the little mouser came closer, enticed by the soft blanket Zeb had wrapped him in and circled on the spot. Sharp little claws pricked at the fabric, then the old ship's cat curled up soundly against Kallus' hip and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeb blinked at the feel of the curved tip of Sabine's sabre pressing under his chin. His dazed look broke into a bright grin and he swung his broadsword downwards in a controlled circled and stuck the blade between the planks of the deck, freeing both of his hands to scoop her up into his arms and spin them in several elated, dizzying circles.
> 
> "Yer beat me! Again! " His laughter was bright and infectious, and Kallus couldn't help but smile along into the cold flesh of his arms.

The ringing clash of steel meeting steel roused Kallus from his empty dreams.

He raised his head and blinked in the brightness of the late morning sun, his borrowed blanket sliding down off his shoulders as he struggled to get his aching body upright. A little too upright, as his head hit the underside of the figurehead.

Kallus spat brine and rubbed at the back of his head, peering up through narrowed eyes to hiss at the offending roof. Cold nights nestled under a damp but still soft blanket in the nook in a rebel ship's bow was not ideal sleeping conditions, but Kallus would not complain. He shook the thoughts from his head and slowly pulled himself up and around to standing to peer at across upper deck, where Garazeb's signature laughter was echoing from. He stood with his back to Kallus, talking animatedly -a little dangerous while holding a wickedly sharp and heavy looking broadsword _with one hand_ \- to a girl less than half his size with a curved sword belted to each hip. Sabine Wren, legendary at her age for her artistry and proclivity for explosives.

It came as something of a comfort to the former Imperial agent that he was not the only one who had time after time failed to bring the spectres in, those two alone fought and won as a two man army; the perfect combination of raw strength, wits, and pockets full of gunpowder.

Kallus rested his chin on his folded arms to watch their sparring match unfold, a buzz of eager excitement settling among his guts. 

They circled each other in slow, methodical paces. It was almost comical, the difference in sheer size between the two of them and that of their weapons of choice, Garazeb hefting that enormous broadsword the length of one of Wren's legs, and her with her two curved sabres. Even so, he wouldn't be surprised if she gained the upper hand. Her wolfish grin had her teeth glinting in the light, along with the well kept blades of her twin swords as she twirled them through the air.

It was only then that Kallus noticed Garazeb did not wear boots, he had met only one other who loudly refused formal footwear. Governor Tarkin had pronounced his uniform's boots far too uncomfortable and had spent his working hours in his house slippers. Alexsandr still couldn't tell if that discovery had made the man seem loosely approachable or downright terrifying. 

Lacking footwear, however, had Garazeb's impressive calves on show; dark skin slashed with paler lines like a fishes gills from many altercations and dusted with thick curling hair. Kallus was unprepared for the moment they sprang forward, too focused on the sailor's bulging muscles.

Steel flashed and sang with it's musical collision and Kallus couldn't not stare at that either; the force behind of both Miss Wren's and Garazeb's swords had them throwing sparks. She may have been only a slight of his impressive size, but her relentless flurry of blows had him on the defensive, backing up to mirror her advance. Zeb wouldn't be backed into a corner, and managed to break free from her assault with a sturdy block and a shove, spinning deftly to the side behind the protective flat of his massive blade. 

Sabine hopped back to wait for her opening and as soon as Garazeb had readied himself, she struck from beneath and threw his sword upwards, sundering his block.

Zeb blinked at the feel of the curved tip of Sabine's sabre pressing under his chin. His dazed look broke into a bright grin and he swung his broadsword downwards in a controlled circled and stuck the blade between the planks of the deck, freeing both of his hands to scoop her up into his arms and spin them in several elated, dizzying circles.

"Yer beat me! _Again!_ " His laughter was bright and infectious, and Kallus couldn't help but smile along into the cold flesh of his arms. 

"Look at'cha..." His voiced dropped to a quiet sincerity but his loving smile remained, even after his nose scrunched up at a hard flick from one of Sabine's painted fingernails. "All gunpowder and bonny like a schooner with canons."

Sabine smiled right back and lowered her head to rest her brow against his, her short and soft locks of brown hair brushing his temples, and uttered a quiet, ' _aww Zeb'_.

Kallus looked away, feeling like an intruder to their moment of respite and his heart ached for his own informally adopted younger sibling, Lyste. He hoped the boy was alright, Stars if Pryce learned that _he_ was the one who had unlocked his cell...

"Now!" Kallus's entire body jolted at Garazeb's sudden shout. The sailor had his teeth bared in a conspiratorial grin, and set his younger sister back on her feet with one large hand between her shoulders to push her forward. "Go beat that cack-handed cabin boy at his own game!"

His rough chuckle carried across the deck, loud enough to be heard over the waves. From the opposite side of the deck and tucked against the stairs leading to the forecastle, Ezra turned just enough to shout at them over his shoulder, elbows resting on the high rail with a spyglass held in both hands.

"I heard that!" His younger brother called with a sour look pinching his expression.

"You were s'posed to!" Zeb shouted back. He teased their newest sibling as all elder brothers did, but he was quietly worried at Ezra keeping to himself. Solitude wasn't in the lad's usual nature.

Lately, the poor boy's head was in four places at once; there could be glowing whales flying through the clouds and Ezra would be too distracted to notice. He certainly hadn't noticed Zeb getting up early and sneaking out of their shared cabin.

Kanan's training had gotten more intense since he had recovered from his capture and torture by Imperial hands, and Ezra had been run ragged. The Empire's strangle hold tightened every day and everyone had to be ready, Zeb couldn't blame the boy for being antsy or forgetful. And besides, if it had nothing to do with mischief or food, well, it couldn't be that important to a teenage boy. Combat training and learning to understand the force called Luck notwithstanding. 

The lad had a thing for stealing Imp's hats, maybe he could swipe him one the next time they made port. Zeb's heavy brow furrowed and he chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought. His sweeping gaze locked with Kallus' golden eyes and he graced the drowned man with a not so subtle wink and a bright smile, and chuckled to himself as Kallus waved his fingers back in greeting, ducking to keep himself low and out of sight of the rest of the Ghost's crew.

Zeb laughed to himself again and scooped up a length of rope, someone had to fix up that net and Ezra had enough to occupy his mind. He sent one last look back at his beloved sister and departed with a another chuckle and a fond shake of his head.

Sabine had deftly paced her way across the deck in a low crouch, and snuck up behind her new brother. She paused for a moment then pounced, covering the sight of the spyglass with the palm of her hand. 

The spectral siblings littlest brother jolted back, and shot her a surly glare. "I'm trying to _see!_ "

"Well I'm trying to _bother you_." She sneered back, mimicking his petulant tone.

Kallus smiled, he could hear their bickering from where he remained at the bow of the ship. Sensing impending trouble, and in a previously uncharacteristic thrill of playfulness, he slipped down the side of the ship and into the water. He'd been sat idle for long enough and no matter how much the water unnerved him, stretching his cramping legs felt marvelous. 

Their fight for the spyglass had it slip from both their hands and plummet over the edge, descending past the churning surface of the water with a splash. They both froze in place. 

"Nice going, Ezra..." Sabine drawled, stepping back to cuff him around the back of the head with a flick of her hand..

"What?" He yelped, rubbing where she had hit, " _You_ made me drop it-!"

They both jumped at a loud metallic _thunk_ beneath them as the wet spyglass rolled back across the deck between their feet. Two sets of curious eyes followed until the little contraption rolled and rocked to a stop, each other's dumbfounded expressions, then clamoured to lean over the side of the ship, stretched up onto their tiptoes for a better view. Both were too distracted with their little mystery to notice that they were no longer alone. 

Kanan had paused in his slow and methodical ascent, counting the steps between each deck and fixed his sightless eyes on his children. Ezra felt his tutor-father's eyes upon him and he locked their gazes over one of his narrow shoulders.

"The ship is haunted."

"It's what?" Kanan said passively with a slow blink and paced a few slow steps closer.

"Ship. It's haunted." He stated again, as though it made real and obvious sense, and leaned as far forward as he could to see back over the side, teetering dangerously over the rail. Two tanned and paint stained hands shot forwards to grab hold of the boy's belt, as a sudden gust of wind buffeted him further forwards to stop the boy from falling over the edge.

Kanan shook his head, a small and private smile tugging at his lips, and turned to walk along the length of the ship to with one hand on the rail to guide him. Soft singing lead the way to where Garazeb sat with his legs dangling freely over the side of the ship, one heel tapping back in a gentle rhythm. 

Zeb blinked up at him, song trailing off and he reached out to loosely hold Kanan's knee when the man drew close. The blind man staggered just a little, and reached out for the warm, rough hand Garazeb's held out.

He settled awkwardly, still fumbling for mastery of life without sight. Zeb kept a hold of his hand until the other man gave him a thankful squeeze, and even then Zeb's weathered hand rose to his companion's narrow shoulder instead of dropping to the deck. Kanan would rarely admit it, for the sake of appearing like the unwavering force he once was -outwardly at least for Ezra's peace- but it was little things that had begun to frighten him. Sudden noises, and his own dreams where he was left flailing in the perpetually blanketed night.

He leaned to the right, until he rested against Garazeb's side, and the other man could reach enough to slide the hand on his shoulder across to his other side to pull him closer. "Ships haunted." Kanan said with a small but peaceful smile towards Zeb's face.

"Well," Zeb chuckled, setting down the half finished net. "We're on a ship called the 'Ghost'. What're they expecting."

Kanan's quiet laugh echoed his own, and his hand came to settle in the short locks of his friend's sun warmed hair. Zeb smiled and leaned in to his touch, he'd let Kanan pet his hair and compare him to a cat. Only him, however. 

After a few sweet, companionable moments of silence, he spoke up. "Hera wanted to speak to you. I think it's about our..." His cloudy eyes flicked to the figurehead of the ship then back again. "Guest."

"Alright." Zeb twisted to place a soft kiss to Kanan's brow, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll go right now."

He hauled himself upright and spread his partially repaired net out across the deck, he'd finish it by the end of the daylight. He gave Kanan's shoulder a gentle squeeze on his way past.

The transition from bright daylight to secluded darkness -no matter how much of the day filtered down between the boards of the deck, or how many candles had been lit- always made Zeb's head spin, and he paused in his descent with one hand braced on the narrow wall. Zeb blinked a few times until his eyes had adjusted to the lower light levels and the deck beneath his feet stopped lurching.

He found Hera hunched over the large table in her cabin -and Zeb could speak from the heart and experience that it was a _sturdy table-_ pouring over old maps and an even older compass, kept company by two steaming mugs of coffee waiting to be drank.

"Mornin' Hera!" He called over cheerily, grateful for a distraction from the niggling pain behind his eyes. 

Their captain hummed a closed mouthed greeting and resumed her quietly accented muttering to herself, eyes lingering on the spread papers in front of her as she scribbled something blindly into a book. "Zeb." She spoke his name through a heavy exhale and smiled up at him after her frantic scribbling had come to an end, and offered him the second mug she had waiting on her desk.

"Kanan said you wanted to speak to me, about Kallus?" Hera nodded along with his words, rolling her stiff shoulders. "Did yer see 'im?" 

"I did." She said, straightening up. "He looked...sick?"

Zeb rubbed the back of his neck, and his next words were uncharacteristically quiet. "I...I don't think he made it outta that storm." 

Hera frowned and tapped the table in front of her, motioning for Zeb to sit, and pulled the stool behind her close enough to sit down on with her heel. Zeb sat as he was bid, his huge shoulders hunching inwards and he wrung his hands awkwardly in his lap.

"He's got no where else to go, Hera. I think he's realized that the English Empire never cared about him or anyone." He reached across the table to offer one of his fidgeting hands, palm up and hopeful.

"Look at 'im, Hera." He mumbled, his whole posture drooping like thirsty flowers, "Karabast I want to help the poor bastard. He may have chased us to and from every point of the compass but he needs help." He hazarded a glance up into Hera's soft green eyes. "He's all lost an' lonely." That did it. It was moments such as this that Zeb was reminded that Hera Syndulla was the self appointed, and rightly so, mother of the crew.

"You've got more heart than chest, Zeb." She sighed, still smiling, and reached over to link her fingers with his and scratch the nails of her other hand through his beard. 

His smile was timid and a little crooked, and Hera couldn't not smile along.

" _Oh_ , go on then!" She shooed him away with a smile, nudging his backside with the toe of her boot until he was out of her legs reach. He left, not fled, with a blush staining his dark cheeks as Hera flicked her twin braids back over her shoulders and muttered something cheekily about matelot.

He stopped by the galley and found Sabine perched on a barrel, meticulously peeling a lime. He leaned on the doorframe, one brow ticked up until she noticed his loitering.

"They're _meditating!_ In the cabin with my latest piece _I need to finish!_ " She groused, leaning to rest her jaw sourly on the knuckles of her fist.

Zeb sighed sympathetically and rearranged himself to stand with his ankles crossed. "You dyein' more ribbons in yer cabin?" She nodded. "Well...yer know," he drawled, scratching the bristly short hairs at the base of his skull. "I think there's some room in mine an' Ezra's. If yer roll in that barrel you'll reach it easy."

Not her usual sunshine grin, but it was getting there. He'd think of something. Let it be said that one Garazeb Orrelios was not above making a fool of himself for the amusement and comfort for his little sister. Or brother. Or adopted parents who were both half his age, for that matter.

"Oh, here!" She pivoted to toss a toweling wrapped book in his direction. "For your... friend."

"Ah, he'll be grateful or it. Thanks 'Beanie." She gave him a knowing grin and offered him a mock salute before departing at an excitable jog to retrieve her supplies. 

He shook his head fondly and turned with a low chuckle to reach into the pot above the stove. A man of Kallus' nature, eating raw fish like an animal wasn't something he'd do. Or be willing to do, no matter his hunger. So Zeb scraped the last dregs of their breakfast into a little wooden bowl -still warm, fancy that- and he scooped up a whittled spoon. 

There were perks to having hands so large, he could carry a bowl and spoon single handed, and tuck the little book under his arm, keeping one hand free to guide him up from the kitchen and out into the daylight. 

The deck was deserted, or he hoped it was as Chopper the 'ankle murderer', tended to blend in. Usually it was Ezra who would leap down from the shrouds to spook him but thanks to Sabine he'd been tipped off that the little deck-rat was preoccupied, and he meant that in a very loving way. Most of the time, at least.

He wasn't hiding Kallus for malice but Garazeb currently had no real explanation for his presence, not to mention that 'the Imperial spy hiding under the bow of our ship isn't spying on us' fell a just little short in that regard. 

"Kallus?" He called softly, spying his crown of rose gold hair, that always seemed so out of place among Imperial grey. He gnawed on his bottom lip as the drowned man so visibly perked up at the sound of his voice. He gave the former Imp a little friendly wave as he crossed the deck.

"Here," he said softly, placing the book in Kallus' eagerly reaching hands, "Somethin' to pass the hours with."

Kallus smiled and nodded in grateful acceptance. His brow then furrowed for a moment and he twisted to trace something with his brine wet fingers one the deck between their bent knees..

"Cat..?" One of Zeb's thick brows twitched up. "Oh! His name's Chopper, _bitey little menace._ I can get'cha a broom to chase the furry devil away-"

Kallus's eyes flew wide, looking almost horrified, and he shook his head vehemently.

"Oh Stars, don't tell me you actually like the little bastard. Just watch out for her fingers, 's all I'm saying. An' He don like his belly bein' petted he'll take yer whole hand off."

Kallus' cheeks would have pinked at the memory of the previous night, specifically when the ship's cat had rolled over onto his back purring eagerly, and at the feel of a handful of very downy belly fur sifting through his fingers.

Zeb laughed, loud and merrily, and watched Kallus dig in to his breakfast to hide his embarrassment through crinkled eyes. "I should warn Hera Chop's got a new favourite." His laugh tapered off into the sort of smile that could be captured in a photograph, of the moment laughter stops and the heart aching warmth of contentment fills the gap it left behind. He gave Kallus a playful but gentle nudge, knocking their knees together, mindful not to have him spill his food. Garazeb wanted for nothing else but to settle back in the sunshine and talk with the curiosity that sat beside him, a man who had his hands stained by blood, but was so ardent to made amends. Or at least, spill enough of his own in repentance.

Zeb sighed, expression falling. He'd have to drag himself away sooner or later to get that net finished, he'd be too distracted by Kallus' bright, eager eyes to finish sat with him. He rose with a groan. "Well, I better get back to it I suppose." His heart pained suddenly as though a musket's shot had pierced it at Kallus' crestfallen expression. He felt just the same. Zeb began to climb up then froze and leaned back down with a what he hoped was a bright and promising grin. "See you tonight, Kal!"

Kallus watched him go with an odd feeling twisting in his gut. This family of oddities went quite peacefully about their day in gentle teasing kindness, the Empire was never like this. Only his former lieutenant had any sort of humour, though that was usually stamped down by Konstantine until the boy showed no levity whatsoever. Alexsandr couldn't say he really had any outward joviality, but he knew what fun was. There was simply a time a for action and a time for idleness. 

Now, he supposed, he had nothing but time for idleness. He set the empty bowl by his hip, hoping that perhaps the dregs of soup would temp his bestial little friend to visit to ease his loneliness in the absence on Garazeb Orrelios. He folded the blanket he'd been so graciously given into a pillow of sorts and settled back against the ship's hull and delicately plucked the book from where it lay, a romance by guess of the title. 

He cocked a brow and thumbed open the cover, careful to keep the worn pages dry, and read something that would have been readily confiscated by Imperial command. If he read until the daylight faded with the little book bashfully close to his face and his lower lip teased between his teeth, then only the sea, the sky, and the figurehead itself knew about it.

*

They dropped the anchor for the night in the shelter of a steep cliffed island, the gentle waves rocked the ship like a cradle and the soft rush of water against the hull was it's soothing lullaby. Music drifted along the whispery paths of the wind, it's melody sweetly reminiscent and old.

Kanan had in his possession a beautifully cared for angélique, gifted by Hera and from her homeland after his persistent mourning over the loss of his old lute. He sometimes played when the mood struck him but for a long while the instrument had lain silent. Evading a sea spanning evil empire had left quite the yawning chasm in the pursuit of romance, and Kanan had risen in heart set decisiveness and felt his way back to his and Hera's cabin with such a remedy in mind.

On the forecastles rail sat Sabine, who plucked them a soft tune with enough life to dance too, and Hera lead her husband in a slow spin around the deck. They deserved what little happiness they could find. In Zeb's opinion, they deserved a whole lot more. He stayed for a time, humming along or singing the songs that he knew, and watched them be the happy carefree young folk that they were. That they should have been allowed to be. 

No one noticed him slip away. No one except Sabine, who tracked her elder brother's surprisingly stealthy escape out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to draw any attention. She dipped her head with a small smile, and played just a little bit louder.

Zeb cast a quick glance over his shoulder then leaned down to get Kallus' attention, not wanting to startle the poor bastard.

"Hey." He whispered, before swinging himself over the ledge and settling in his usual spot beside Kallus. The drowned man tipped his head up to fix Zeb with a small smile upside-down; he had missed those simple pleasures such as music after so long as sea. Zeb chuckled, and watched enraptured, as Kallus closed his star shiny eyes and swayed along with Sabine's tune. 

"Want to join them?" He tried to keep his voice low but laughed at Kallus' jarring and sudden questioning look, caught somewhere between skeptical and open brows-to-hairline surprise. "What?" He stifled his laugh behind his fist, "I can dance. Kanan taught me."

Kallus' face fell. _Kanan Jarrus_. He was there when they had dragged him in, he had been the one to tighten the chains around the younger man's wrists.

"Hey now," Zeb's voice was softer than he deserved it to be, and he turned his face away in shame. "Don't you have that look, Kal. It wasn't you holding that hot iron." One weathered hand came to rest on Kallus' knee, warm and reassuring, and Alexsandr couldn't tell if he wanted to shove it away or curl those roughened fingers around his cheek and bid Garazeb to never move away.

He instead, to the insistence of his feeble and thundering heart, took Zeb's hand in his own and bought it gently to his lips. Garazeb did not snatch his hand away as Alexsandr had feared, and if the drowned man had had the bravery to turn his eyes to Garazeb's, he'd have seen star struck wonder gazing back.

Kallus slipped his fingers free and turned Zeb's palm towards the sky to trace the letters of his given name across the warm skin of the sailor's palm.

"Alexsandr, huh." Garazeb's voice was breathy and soft. "Fancy." Handsome, he meant, and wished to say aloud. At least, he hoped he hadn't said that aloud, but the look on Kallus's face made him doubt himself. It must have been the music, or the moonlight, but something compelled Zeb to slowly link their fingers together again and rub his thumb over that back of Kallus' pale hand.

It was an odd feeling, Garazeb would attest, sitting beside and hand in hand with a man who had once been an enemy, one who had been baptized in icy sea water until the life he knew had almost left him to be roused in the upside-down. And if anyone was earnest in their desire for repentance and the chance to get their second attempt at life right, even if they were unsure as to how, it was Kallus.

"Hey," Zeb said softly, only just audible above the rolling of the waves beneath them. He meant to sound assured, but all that passed his lips was eager hopefulness. "I've got an idea. Come on."

Zeb descended the carved in ladder, and gasped softly at the chilly touch of the water against his legs. Brine soaked up through his thin cotton shirt, it's eager trailing fingers spread higher from the loose fitting hem to seep through to the collar. Alexsandr leaned over the edge to watch him cautiously. 

"C'mon..." Zeb beckoned. His soft grin smoothed into sudden sobriety, and he reached out fervently. "Trust me, Alexsandr. I'm not going to fail you." Kallus worried his lower lip between his teeth and reached out tentatively with his own hand.

He slid down into the water, landing submerged with a rippling splash, to join the other man in the water, having a much easier time staying buoyant.

"Yer gotta help me stay afloat, 'm a pretty big fella, yer know." Kallus' brows raised, and Zeb bit his tongue as punishment for it not consulting his brain before speaking. Or maybe it did, and just ignored his requests for silence. He just hoped Kallus would recognize anxious bravado, and not think him a loose belted cad.

His fears were smothered however, at the stuck rasping of Kallus trying valiantly to hide a hacking wheeze behind his hand. Zeb felt his jaw drop. Kallus was laughing. They treading water facing each other, and after a frozen moment Alexsandr sank his teeth once again deep into his lower lip and he shyly took Zeb's hand.

He would have laughed if his throat wasn't swollen full of water, and allowed Garazeb to spin him around under their bridged arms. Zeb laughed for the both of them however, but the noise stuttered into bated silence as he reached down slowly, and wrapped one of his warm and very large hands around Kallus' waist.

Alexsandr's jaw hung just a little, and quivered as though he drew an unsteady gasp of breath, a little trail of sea water dripped down from his parted and cracked lips.

Their music was the cradling rush of the ocean rolling beneath them, and Garazeb's sweet breaths and the drum beat of Garazeb's heart thundering it's rhythm in the meagre space between them. As well as the sweet tune played by a thankfully conspicuous sister, who unbeknownst to the both of them, smiled privately at the sound of her elder brothers warm and rasping laughter mingled with the faint ripple of water among a still ocean.

The steps Hera lead her Kanan, Garazeb and Alexsandr parodied in the rocking waves beneath them.

Zeb submerged himself lower in the water and grasped Kallus' waist with both hands. Alexsandr barely had a moment for his awareness to catch up before Zeb kicked his powerful legs and lifted him up out of the water to spin them around. Garazeb met his eyes and smiled like the breaking of the dawn, and something unbidden had him wrap his arms around the sailor's tanned neck and let himself be lowered back down.

Moonlight caught in the droplets of sea water that clung to Alexsandr's hair, and stained his clinging lashes dark. It was only then that Zeb noticed just how close they really were as their legs brushed with every motion between them. Kallus' eyelashes fluttered with every one of Zeb shallow exhales, his warm breath fanned over cold lips.

The music had stopped, and they froze scant inches apart.

When Garazeb at last found his voice, it sounded foreign to his own ears. "I, ah...I-I should get back before I'm missed." Kallus blinked and jerked back a little, remembering himself, but Zeb didn't let him go far. He bowed politely, and the water that his short cropped hair swept up as the strands brushed the surface dripped down over his eyes and he blinked them away.

They swam together in hesitance, something not quite broken between them, and climbed back up the side of the ship; Alexsandr nimble and near silent, and Garazeb hauled himself out of the water with the subtlety of a thundering cascade. Kallus couldn't help rasp a little laugh, one that he did his best to smother as Zeb pulled his soaking bulk up to his level.

"See yer 'round, Alexsandr..." He smiled, and the little rolling purr off his tongue did not go unnoticed. Zeb departed hastily with a wink, almost loosing his grip on the slippery wood. 

Kallus cast a secretive glance at the frankly _sinful_ book he kept tucked away, dreaming himself and one particular man among its pages, still feeling those large and wonderfully calloused hands around his waist. _Kissed like the devil indeed_.

The familiar voice of one Ezra Bridger called Garazeb's name from above at the creak and thump of the larger man's bare feet landing on the deck. "Hey, Zeb! W-why are you wet?" 

"No reason!" Kallus couldn't not smile if he tried at the clear and confrontational panic in Garazeb's voice. He settled back comfortably, gazing up at the stars, and continued to smiled an ache into his cheeks for the first time since that storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This footnote was mainly for myself but heck it, what are they wielding:  
> Zeb uses a broadsword- a big sword for a big boye  
> Kanan and Ezra use rapiers- they look the most lightsaber like and they're wielded kinda similar  
> Beanie baby has a sabre- curved and pretty looking, I found some engraved ones and hell yes perfect for Sabine  
> Hera has a pistol and her fists (and Chopper) She is also French because I love her Ryl accent


End file.
